


We Oughta Buy You a Cadillac

by yuffiehighwind



Series: An Eternity in Cheese Country [27]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Dual Identity, F/M, Gen, Milwaukee, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-01
Updated: 2003-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuffiehighwind/pseuds/yuffiehighwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Discord does like Deimos, even though he's prone to being crushed by flaming oxcarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Oughta Buy You a Cadillac

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the 'fic series "An Eternity in Cheese Country," and here's why - after they were killed by Callisto and Xena, the souls of Strife, Discord, and Deimos were reincarnated in the late 20th century into three humans named Steve, Veronica, and Dave.

It was a hazy summer day in Milwaukee. Two people, a woman and a man, sat across from each other in a diner reminiscing.

"So, Dave, what did I miss?"

"Not much. Athena was right. Shoulda let the Furies handle it."

"Figured as much when Poseidon blew up. How’d I die?"

"Head chopped off."

"How’d  _you_  die?"

There was a pause, then.

"Well?"

The man, Dave, bit his lip and shrugged. After a long silence he mumbled, "Flaming oxcart."

One of the woman’s eyebrows shot up. "You’re joking."

Dave shook his head.

The woman, Veronica, sipped her coffee, her fingers wrapped around the mug in a death grip. A few moments later, she said, "Let me get this straight. A flaming…"

"Yeah."

" _Ox_ cart."

"Uh-huh."

"Fell on you?"

"That’s pretty much what happened, yeah."

Veronica’s left eye twitched. Still squeezing the cup, she was trying to contain her anger and failing.

"I thought Xena could only kill a god  _herself_."

Her cousin took a huge bite out of a chocolate crème-filled donut and avoided Veronica’s deadly gaze.

"The downfall of the fucking gods and it’s a flaming fucking oxcart?!"

He shrugged again and signaled for the waiter.

"The death of our fucking family and it’s a flying cock-sucking oxcart on fire?!"

The waiter, nervously avoiding Veronica, leaned in close to Dave and asked how he could be of service.

"You don’t have any Midol, do you? By any chance? At all?"

The waiter, who was working his first day at the diner, could only shake his head and send a sympathetic " _You poor fucker"_  through his eyes.

"A FLAMING OXCART?!"

 _"Help me,"_ Dave mouthed to the people at the next table.

Veronica, furious, threw coffee at him, swiped up her purse, and stormed out the door.

Dave wiped his face with his napkin and thanked Nyx the coffee was cold.

"Check please."

 

* * *

 

"How’s Strife?" Dave asked. His real name was Deimos, despite Veronica's assertions otherwise. They were sitting under a tree in the park. Some college students played hackysack nearby.

"Steve," Veronica, née Discord, corrected.

"Steve?"

"His boyfriend Dimitri named him that."

"Fuck, you're  _all_  staying in that shithole?"

"No," Discord replied, taking a drag of her cigarette. "Dimitri returned to Russia and left him the place."

Deimos' face scrunched up and he leaned back against the tree. "How the fuck did Strife score an apartment? Or a Russian boyfriend, for that matter?"

"Steve."

"What?"

" _Steve_."

She pointed to the boys playing hackysack. Deimos nodded, though he didn’t actually understand. He still found himself using his old name. Cherile never minded. She thought it was cool.

By ridiculous coincidence or more probably fate, Deimos was dating the secretary of the psychologist with whom Discord had her own similar arrangement. They reacquainted the day Deimos waltzed into Dennis’ office to pick up Cherile. Discord had been unsure how to behave. Sure, they’d been sleeping together when the whole crisis with Xena happened, but it’s not as though they ever really  _liked_  each other or anything. He had always reminded her of Ares in that respect.

"You still got a thing for him?"

Discord smoked silently, lying down and staring up at the clouds through the leaves. She imagined them whispering to each other and chuckled.  _"She can’t hold it together anymore. She can’t pretend and might as well go back."_ Leaves were such assholes sometimes. Or maybe it was Persephone. Fuck, it probably was. Discord  _did_  spill mead on her summer dress once. September came early that year. That too could have had something to do with not being invited to parties. How long ago had _that_ conversation come up?

Deimos ran his fingers through Discord’s hair and followed her gaze.

"What, he’s a fuckin’ leaf, now? Hehehe, fucking leaves…"

"Do you  _ever_  shut up?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why did you come find me?"

Deimos puzzled over this for a minute. "Didn’t have much choice. Kinda died."

Milwaukee hummed with summer heat; Persephone gloated somewhere. Discord put out her cigarette on the tree trunk, which winced. Deimos no longer noticed these things. She rolled over and looked up at her cousin.

"You know what I mean. Are you  _really_  that naïve?"

He snorted, disentangling his hand from her hair. "Fuck, no. This isn't about  _you_. I’m my own man now! I don’t need  _you,_  or anybody!"

Discord smiled. "Good, that’s just what I wanted to hear."

Deimos crossed his arms. Both lay in silence, listening to the city move around them. The college boys were gone, called elsewhere. A woman walked her dog along the path and a man jogged in the opposite direction. Deimos dared to stroke Discord’s hair again and she ignored it, though she didn’t much mind. It seemed Strife was afraid to touch her since they had reunited that foggy morning in the street with the dead man’s name, Discord lost and confused, clad in rags and wandering the streets of Milwaukee. Strife found her and saved her from almost getting hit by one of those big metal carts – they were called cars – and brought her home to his apartment. He didn't tell her much of his first years there, but by his sober demeanor she’d determined they had changed him.

Discord gazed up at the tree and began to seriously consider the possibility her cousin  _was_  there watching her and  laughing. As far as Deimos knew, anyone in the family who had not threatened Xena’s daughter lived on, which meant everyone but themselves and half the Olympians. In addition to Mother, Father, and Poseidon, Hades and Hephaestus were gone, Deimos said. As for the rest, he didn’t know, having been flattened. He did tell Enyo and the others of Discord’s death the night before, over which they had snickered and snorted and given a toast. She was a fucking laughing stock, likely to this very day.

The wind blew and Persephone giggled softly somewhere. Discord strained to hear but could not. A couple walked by, arguing. The air moved with the tension and the atmosphere thickened like stew. She no longer noticed these things.

"Do you ever miss it?" she asked, interrupting the communal of whatever silent spirits were present. Deimos shrugged and idly played with the hair by Discord’s ear.

"Of course." He made a wave motion with his free hand. "The powers were _really_ cool. Spells and shit. And I  _hate_  taking the bus."

Discord closed her eyes and sighed. Fuck, she did that a lot now. He  _never_  got it. Far too young. Only what, a hundred? Still a godling when he died. Deimos was a fuckin’ baby.

"Ugh, I can’t talk to you," she said exasperatedly. He ran a finger down her cheek; it didn’t burn anymore. She batted it away.

"What? Why ya say that?"

"You are a baby. You’re a baby in a man’s body. Always were. You never had a clue what you were doing or how life worked."

Deimos grinned. "Neither did you."

Discord bit her lip as the leaves chuckled at her.  _Laugh it up._

"You asked why I came to find you. Well why, if you hate me so much, did you agree to see  _me_?"

Discord had an answer but didn’t want to say it. Truth was, she was lonely. She had always wished her family would just go away, but now she wanted them back more than ever. Especially in the drab mortal world, Discord needed someone who understood.

Deimos, ever the amateur, had his own theories.

"Oh, just come out with it, Discord. You  _like_  me."

Discord sighed. She remembered a conversation like this as though it were days ago, when really it had been twenty-five years. No, it had been two thousand. No, it felt like yesterday.

Yech, her life was like a middle school melodrama.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do, even though you’re self-centered, egotistical, conniving, back-stabbing, aggravating pain in my ass…"

"Discord, I'm the god of fucking pain!"

"Well, yeah, then that last one is a given." She paused. "And you’re prone to being crushed by flaming oxcarts."

He shook his head. "You've made your point. Now where’s that leave us?"

Discord sat up. Shrugging, she collected her purse and prepared to leave. Deimos grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

"That’s it? Finito? Ah revu?"

"That’s ‘au revoir’, and  _yes_. What did you expect? Swelling music? An orchestra to pop out of my ass and the lights to fade out?"

"You've got no imagination, Discord. Nil." He made a zero with his fingers. Discord rolled her eyes and began walking away. Deimos got up and followed her.

"What’s your number?"

"None of your business."

"Come _on_ , what if I get into trouble?"

"You get yourself out of it."

"Then what was this whole date about?"

Discord stopped and turned. " _Date_?"

"Can I get your number or not?"

Defeated, Discord pulled out a pen. "Here, write this on your hand." Deimos giggled in triumph. "555-7821."

"55…what was that third digit?"

"Five, you dumbass."

"Oh yeah! And then…"

Discord started off down the path at a brisk pace. "Seven!" she called over her shoulder.

"And then?" he hollered back.

"Eight, two, one!"

He scrawled the last three numbers on his hand before realizing she'd gone. "Hey, you left your pen!" he yelled, but she was too far to hear. Deimos furrowed his brow and looked at the pen, which had the address of the club Discord worked at on it.

"Heartbreakers," he mumbled to himself, shoving the pen in his back pocket and walking off in the opposite direction. "Ha!"

**Author's Note:**

> -This was written back to back with "[Better Find Someone to Blame](http://archiveofourown.org/works/580073)."
> 
> -The strip club Veronica works at was originally named the "Cadillac Lounge," but I changed it to "Heartbreakers," a real bar in the real Milwaukee. Google it.
> 
> -The title is a lyric from the song "Get Over It" by OK Go.
> 
> -This takes place in August 1999.


End file.
